


Riding the Bus and Falling in Love Aren't Really That Different

by wyvernisgod



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:43:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvernisgod/pseuds/wyvernisgod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave rides the bus all the time. It gets him where he needs to go. One day, while riding it, he meets John, who is moving to the city. They start to ride the bus together, and small shenanigans ensue, which eventually lead to Dave being invited over to pull a prank on John's sister. It backfires... but not really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riding the Bus and Falling in Love Aren't Really That Different

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally going to be posted after I had posted a couple chapters of my Teridan fic, but I think I'll just post it now. Thank you for reading, and if anything feels out of character or you see an error, feel free to tell me! I hope you like it!

The bus was late. Again. Dave sighed deeply, leaning back into the shitty bus stop bench as the snow fell around him. Of all days, why did it have to be the day he was actually doing something for it to be late? Couldn’t be that time he was ten minutes late getting out of bed, or the day the air conditioning had broken and he had literally had to break ice off the showerhead to start it up. No, fate wasn’t chill enough to do him favors like that (the weather, on the other hand, was chill to the point of jackets and gloves. No complaints there).  
He had been riding the buses and subway ever since he could go to school on his own, which was pretty damn early on. His bro never had time to walk him everywhere, and Dave didn’t want him to. There was more to do when he was alone: parkour (which was the reason the 39 up Harley Ave wouldn’t let him on anymore), talking with his friends, grabbing a coffee or hot chocolate or an icee or whatever he wanted when he was thirsty. Plus, bro was kinda—intense. He was always talking about how Dave needed better grades, better attitude, better friends, even though Dave was twenty and technically an adult. Dave never said it out loud, and neither did Bro, but he was pretty sure it was because Bro didn’t want Dave to end up like him, making puppet videos (a euphemism for hardcore porn) in a shitty apartment where he didn’t want to be.

Dave had no intention of ending up like that, but he guessed that these things kinda snuck up on you, so he shut up and did what he was told.  
  
A few minutes passed, Dave shifting on the bench in an effort to stay warm and ending up sprawled across it, buried into his hoodie like some kind of bird. His black jeans were already lightly dusted with the white powder falling from the sky, but thankfully his hoodie (a red one, covered in gears—Bro had gotten it for him for his birthday) insulated him from the cold. For now, anyway. His music was on his preferred settings; a radio station based on some random band the app recommended, and as loud as he could stand.

_Everybody in the world, are you with me?  
It’s too late to try to run, we run the city—_

A noise wormed its way through the music, and Dave looked up, pulling out a single earbud. The source of the noise, a guy who had his blue jacket, complete with a weird little ghost thing on it, pulled up to his nose and a green beanie stuffed on his head stretched down over his ears, waved awkwardly at him, saying (a bit muffled through the fabric), “Uh, sorry to bother you, but do you mind if I sit here?”  
Dave sized him up for a second before scooting into a sitting position, leaning back against the metal seat again. The other guy plopped down onto the bench, shivering a little, and said cheerfully, “It’s really cold up here. Too bad I forgot to pack a real jacket, huh? Good thing the bus is late, though. I would have hated to have to walk.”

Dave looked over at him, putting his other earbud back in. “Mm hm. Snow’s a real bitch to the bus schedules.”  
And that was the end of the talk. The other guy seemed content with that, huddling into a small ball to try and maximize heat. Dave stole a glance now and again; ghost guy, as he christened the guy, looked happy, nothing like the kids Dave went to school with, or the ones he hung out with. He had a bit of an overbite, but it made him look… kinda cute, actually. In a nerdy way.

And then, thank god and jesus and whatever the hell else was up there, the bus showed up. As the doors hissed open (oh sweet heating system take him away), the bus driver yelled out of the doors in his normal crabby tone. “ANYONE WHO NEEDS TO GET ON, GET ON RIGHT NOW OR YOU WILL BE EATING THE GRITTY ASS DUST THAT COMES OFF THESE WHEELS, UNDERSTAND?”

Dave snorted, climbing onto the heated bus and dropping a coin into the slot, muttering, “Nice to see you too, Karkat. Get held up in traffic again?”

The driver glared at him, snapping, “Damn right it was traffic. Brainless sacks of fat don’t know how to drive in this city, especially with ‘snow on the ground’.” He made little air quotes around ‘snow on the ground’ as Dave trooped to his normal seat, two back from the front, and ghost guy took the seat in front of him. Karkat closed the door, grumbling, “Snow on the ground my ass. Half an inch and everyone starts flailing around like a bunch of grade-A dumbfucks.”  
Ghost guy laughed, and oh god that was the most adorable thing Dave had ever heard. It was a combination of a squeak and a giggle, like something out of one of those shitty movies with dumb blondes and dumber jocks. It made the corners of Dave’s mouth turn up, but through his hoodie no one saw it, which was good. He had to keep his image of suave cool guy up.

Halfway to Dave’s first stop (the pet store on Winchester, and the morgue a few streets away was next), ghost guy pulled out a map of the city, unfolding it gently and scanning it. He made a “hmmmm” noise, running a finger down the paper (and Dave wasn’t watching him or anything, no way. He couldn’t fucking help looking in front of him, right? Bus etiquette and whatever other shit they taught in preschool).   
After a minute of this, ghost guy cleared his throat and then turned his (slightly embarrassed) gaze to Dave. “Um, could you help me? I need to get to Scratch Street, and from there I’m supposed to take the… the 54 bus up to Marionette Road? But I don’t know where those are, and I’m actually not sure what stop to get off on.” His face turned a little red, and Dave chuckled under his breath, sitting up and leaning casually over the back of the seat. His mouth was about ten inches from ghost guy’s ear now, but he didn’t seem to mind. Dave’s eyes traced the map until he found the small type he wanted, and he pointed it out to ghost guy, muttering, “Here’s Scratch Street, and the 54 stop is just past the Hallmark store up here. Marionette Road is…” he moved the finger up the map, coming to rest on even smaller type. “It’s right here. It’ll be like the sixth stop or something.”   
  
Dave leaned back, and ghost guy followed him, crossing his arms (with the map still in hand) on the back of the seat, smiling at Dave with the same goofy smile he had at the bus stop. “Thank you. Um, I’m John.” He uncrossed his arms to hold one hand out to Dave, and after a second of contemplation Dave took it, and the smile on John’s face broadened even more. Dave’s mouth twitched again, and he let a small smile come onto his face.  
When they let go, John continued to talk to Dave, with Karkat looking into the mirror and grumbling some shit about safety. “So, what’s your name, gear dude?”

Dave snorted involuntarily, looking down at his hoodie and then back up at John. “Dave. So, you moving here, or visiting for the holidays or something?”

John nodded. “Moving. I’m staying with a friend until my apartment is… it’s a long story, actually.” He made a face, sticking out his tongue, and Dave chuckled again.   
The bus stopped, a little suddenly, and Karkat announced, “Alright, this is Winchester Street here. If anyone needs to get off for Winchester Street, I hope that you’ll get off here and not complain a goddamn stop away that I didn’t tell you that this was, in fact, fucking Winchester Street.”  
Dave sighed, picking up his bag and standing. He held a hand out in a high five gesture to John, saying, “This is my stop, man. See you around or something.” John gave him five, nodding, and then Dave was off the bus (back into the cold, jesus, was it really this bad a few minutes ago?), staring after it even though his eyes were going to shrivel up and fall out because of the damn chill.

He hoped that John rode the same bus tomorrow, too.

 

* * *

 

It had been a week, but Dave hadn’t seen any sign of the dark haired goof since that first talk on the bus. Karkat teased him about it, in the rough and kind of annoying way he had (“so, Strider, your boyfriend skip out on you again?”), but Dave brushed it off, as always. That was the best part about being friends with Karkat—as long as he got his snide remarks in, he was fine with anything.

The sun was bright on Friday, a nice change from the dark clouds that had hung over the city for the last few days. Dave was even starting to get halfway warm on his normal bus seat, huddled across it as always, when a familiar voice said, “Mind if I pop a squat with you, homedog?”  
Dave looked up, eyebrows going to his hairline, and his shaded eyes met twinkling blue ones a second before John burst out laughing. Dave shook his head, sitting up, and John collapsed into the open space, still laughing. Dave couldn’t stop the smile that came onto his face at John’s giggles as he said, “Homedog? Really? You’re such a white boy, John, Christ.”

John eventually stopped laughing, and he turned to Dave, almost wiping tears from his eyes. “It was your face that set me off. You looked offended, like I had insulted your mom or something.”

Dave scoffed. “I wouldn’t get half as offended if you insulted my mom. Homedog is—it’s sacred, man. Like the cross, or the Bible, or McDonalds. You just don’t take the name of homedog in vain.”

John couldn’t make his next retort, as the bus pulled up to their stop as soon as Dave finished. The two, chatting as easy as old friends, scurried into the heated metal container, and Dave knew by the shark’s smile on Karkat’s face that he would never hear the end of it.

And to be honest, he was fine with that.  
  


* * *

 

A day later, John was heading to the same stop as Dave this time, Scrubstone Street, although he wouldn’t say what for. Dave respected that; free fucking country, right? But something in John’s eyes, a twinkle or a turn of his lips or something, made him think that John was up to no good.

And god damn did he want in.

“John, you have about the worst fucking poker face I have ever seen. Spill, what are you planning?”

John just chuckled and said, “Fine. It’s a glitter bomb for my sister. She’ll appreciate it, I think. Or maybe not, depends on where I set it off.”

Dave blinked, thrown for a second, and then laughed, really laughed, because a glitter bomb? That was so weird and out of nowhere and completely John, although Dave hadn’t known him for very long. John laughed with him, that little giggle squeak that he did, and when their laughter died down into chuckles John said, “Do you wanna help me make it? Or do you have something cooler and more ironic to do?”

Dave rolled his eyes. He had told John about his blog a few days ago, when he had been updating it before heading to the movies with Rose, and ever since John hadn’t stopped teasing him about it. “Hell yeah I wanna help you make it. You sure your sister won’t kill you when you set it off, though?”

The other boy shrugged. “I don’t know. Jade gets into these weird moods sometimes, but as long as I set it off when she’s in a good one she’ll probably just yell at me.”

The bus slowed to a stop, and Karkat’s voice interrupted them. “This is Scrubstone Street. Anyone who needs to get off here, including Eridan Ampora, who I swore I kicked off this bus forever last week, get off. If you need reminding, this is Scrubstone Street, the street of scrubs and stone.” Dave and John stood, their conversation put on pause until they were on the sidewalk, and they were followed by a tall kid who looked about their age. He had a couple piercings, styled hair, and as he passed Karkat he muttered, “Sorry. Our meetin’ ran late, I couldn’t wwalk home an’ still make it on time.”   
  
Karkat grumbled something back, but Dave and John were already halfway down the street, huddled together against the cold. There was a thrift shop on the corner of Scrubstone and Riverdell, and John swore up and down that the guy who ran the counter sold the best glitter he had ever seen. Dave didn’t know much about glitter quality, or what even qualified good glitter, but he went with it.

The shop was warm, cozy, filled to bursting with every kind of strange trinket or weird piece of clothing imaginable. Dave brushed a pair of leather pants aside as he and John wove their way through the mess to get to the counter (the pants were all hanging from the ceiling, flapping in the wave of warm air coming from the heating system, and Dave didn’t question it), manned by probably the tallest person Dave had ever seen. He loomed over them when they got there, staring down at them with a happy grin and droopy eyes that made Dave think immediately that he was a stoner.  
John waved as he approached, and the man said in a deep rumble, “What’s up, motherfucker? You back for more of that glitter? Magic stuff, motherfucker. Stuff of motherfucking miracles.” John grinned. “You bet, Gamzee. Where’s Hamzee?”  
  
From behind the counter, a small squeal answered John’s question, and a little black and purple piglet struggled onto the wood counter a second later, its tail twitching wildly. It went straight for Dave, burrowing into his sweatshirt, and he just fucking rolled with it because god dammit when a piglet wants to snuggle with your unworthy ass you fucking snuggle that piggy. Gamzee laughed, a breathy laugh that was completely opposite of what Dave expected, and said happily, “Hamzee likes you, motherfucker. Wanna feed him a treat?” He gestured to a small jar on the side of the counter, filled to the brim with small dog treats, and Dave took one, giving it to the little pig, who eagerly gobbled it up.

John watched this interaction with a ginormous smile, and Dave grinned right back at him, cradling Hamzee in his arms like a baby while the little pig munched happily on the dog treat. He thought, dimly, that he could stay here forever and he would be pretty goddamn happy with that.

Twenty minutes, two pairs of leather pants (Dave had been curious, and after he tried them on he refused to take them off, especially after John said that he looked like David Bowie) and a carefully sealed bag of glitter later, they were out the door. Gamzee had seen them off with a cheerful wave and a call of, “Come back real soon, motherfuckers! Hamzee gets real lonely with no one to pat him!” and John had laughed and waved back without turning around.   
On the freezing cold street (but the pants were actually quite warm, thank god), John had turned to Dave and asked, breath visible in the dim sunlight, “Hey, do you wanna come over when I set it off? Then you’ll really be like David Bowie, glitter and everything!”

Dave had considered for exactly .2 seconds and then said, casually, “Sure, that’d be awesome. Need your address, though.” John had recited it, Dave had typed it in, and then he remembered why he had gone out in the first place when a text from Bro popped up on the screen.

_Hey, little man. You got those crickets yet? Izzy’s getting’ a little impatient._

“Oh fuck.” He said it lightly, almost jokingly, and John blinked, confused. “What’s wrong?”

Dave put his phone away and looked down the street. It was a ten minute walk to the pet store, ten minutes back, and the bus would come in 10 minutes—he had been in that store longer than he had thought. He said, “I have to run and get a jar of crickets for my brother’s lizard, and if I don’t get them in the next half hour he’s going to feed me to her. Hold this.” He handed John his bag of pants, put his phone in as well, and added, “If the bus comes before I’m back, tell Karkat to wait his ass up for a minute or two. If it’s not Karkat, stall.”  
John nodded, eyebrows pulled together in confusion, but Dave didn’t bother to try and explain more. He started running, speeding past the shop he had been in not a minute before, and past six more shops like it before he reached the pet store. He skidded in, went straight for the counter, and leaned over it, saying with deadly seriousness (and a touch of breathlessness), “Listen. I need a small jar of crickets under the name of Strider, and I need them right now or I’m going to miss the bus, and if I miss the bus I’m gonna be late, and if I’m late then Strider Sr. is gonna kick my ass. His lizard is very important to him.”

The lady at the counter, obviously not expecting this, blinked at him, and after a moment she said, “Uh. Of course. Let me just get the jar, and I’ll be right back.” She headed for the back, and Dave waited a full two minutes before she came back out with a small jar of hopping insects.   
She handed it to him, and Dave nodded. “Thanks. Have a nice day.”  
And then he booked it out the door again, the snow almost blinding him as he sprinted for the bus stop. John was there, and so was the bus, and Dave was the first up the stairs and into a seat. He cradled the jar of crickets close, and when John sat next to him he took the bag of pants and his phone back. John, jokingly, said, “So those aren’t for you? Not trying out a new hipster low carb recipe?”

Dave made a face, staring at John like he was nuts. “Are you serious? Me, a hipster? No man. I’m just ironic, not a dumbass with an IPhone.”   
  
John grinned back teasingly. “So you don’t deny that the crickets are for you?”  
  
Dave shoved him lightly with his shoulder, rolling his eyes. “No, they’re for your mom. She asked me to pick up some snacks before we did it again.”  
  
John was the one to make a face this time. “Dude. Gross. Crickets for a snack? Is there anything more of a turn off than that?”  
  
Dave nodded, a smile forcing its way onto his face. “Yeah, your dick.”  
  
The resulting flurry of blows was definitely worth it.  


* * *

 

  
The following Wednesday, the day before Christmas, found Dave in a cozy little apartment across town, in a messy bedroom, holding a live glitter bomb with a panicking dark-haired idiot across from him.

“Dave, just—put it under the bed, or something, just—I don’t know, throw it out the window!”

“John, that’s a really bad idea. Just calm down, okay? We can put it in a box or something, or wrap it in a blanket.”

“How is that any better??”

They had just been putting it together, and then somehow or another the fuse had been lit. The obvious thing to do, Dave would later think, would be to put the fuse out, but of course in the heat of the moment no one thought of that.   
He blamed John for his distraction. He had become steadily more attracted to the boy in the past few days—it was becoming a crush. Thinking around him had become a little difficult; all he could think about was his laugh, or his smile, or how he wanted to hold his hand. He was becoming a cliché rom com girl, and it horrified him (but it amused Rose to no end—he knew telling her was a bad idea, but she had a way of making him talk that no one else had).   
  
At the moment of their panic, Jade (John’s sister, who Dave thought was both adorable and slightly scary—she had three guns hanging up in the hallway, and some stuffed game scattered around the living room) opened the bedroom door, saying, “Everything alright, boys?”  
Dave, not knowing what else to do, tossed her the glitter bomb, and when she stumbled back in surprise he shut the door as well.

There was a second of pure, horrified silence, and then there was a bang and a loud shout of “JOHN EGBERT! I’M GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS!”

The boy in question started to laugh, small chuckles that evolved into heaving laughs that sent him to the floor. Dave started to laugh too, and in ten seconds they had devolved to dying laughing on the floor. Jade opened the door, her eyes manic and the rest of her absolutely covered in neon glitter, and said, “I’m going to get you back for this, John. Mark my words.”  
She left, the door slamming shut behind her, and after two minutes of laughter John finally managed to sit up, gasping for breath. “Dave—Dave, we—need to go apolo—apologize. Jesus Christ, did you—did you see her face?”  
Dave hoisted himself up as well, a few giggles escaping as he brushed himself off (some of the glitter had drifted to him, and now he probably did look like David Bowie). “Yeah. Fuckin’ priceless, John. God, I wish we had gotten it on fucking camera. Holy shit.”  
That set them off again, and it was five minutes more before they came out of John’s room and headed for the kitchen. John started to giggle at the sight of glitter coating the wall and door outside his room, and Dave had to take deep breaths and think about dead birds before he started laughing again too.

The kitchen was small, but so was the apartment, and the two fit comfortably in it, so it didn’t really matter anyway. This was Jade’s apartment, which John had just finished moving into. The front door had opened into a small living room, which had a kitchen to the left and a hallway which contained two bedrooms and a bathroom to the right. They could see Jade on the outside patio which was in the back of the kitchen, beating her jacket with a broom, and that set them off again. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to hear them, but as they opened the sliding glass door and went to step outside with her, she said (without turning around), “Look up, losers.”  
  
They did, confused (and Dave thought for a second that maybe she had rigged some kind of water bucket or something—it was what Bro would do), and were met with the sight of green jagged leaves and little red berries waving cheerfully in the sharp breeze.   
  
“Mistletoe? Really, Jade? That’s all you got?” But John was going red in the face, and so was Dave, and there was suddenly something between them that hadn’t been there before, not really an elephant in the room so much as a good sized dog squeezed between them.   
  
Dave looked up, looked down at John, shrugged, and said as coolly as he could muster, “I’m down if you are, man. Bring those buck teeth over here.”

John blinked, hesitated, and then leaned in, and the two were kissing, a warm kiss that made Dave’s heart beat faster and made him tingly down to the tips of his toes. John tasted like chocolate, and he was warm, so warm that the cold of the winter around them seemed to fade away.   
  
And _that_ was when Jade dumped a bucket of water over them.

They sprang apart, gasping, and she said triumphantly, “Gotcha back. Don’t ever glitter bomb me again, John. And Dave?” Dave looked at her, blinking the freezing cold water from his eyes, and her grin was both predatory and welcoming at the same time. It scared the shit out of him. “Welcome to the family.”

John spluttered, but Dave laughed, weakly, and said, “Thanks, Jade.”  
  
John broke in. “Yeah, thanks a lot! We’re probably going to get pneumonia now!” He headed back inside, shaking his sleeves to try and get rid of the water, and Jade followed him, calling, “You know that’s not how you get pneumonia! It’s hypothermia you might get!”  
  
Dave didn’t follow them for a minute, staring out at the city, and a grin found its way onto his face that had absolutely nothing to do with John’s reaction to Jade and everything to do with John’s reaction to him.  
And when he turned around and went back inside, he went knowing that the next day would be the best Christmas he had ever had, because now he had a boyfriend to spend it with.

And fuck, if this was what it felt like to be cliché, then maybe it wasn’t all bad.


End file.
